Whiskey Slurs
by unfold
Summary: New chapter up. Rory and Jess face to face. No more phone tag. Reviews appreciated of course.
1. I Rory

He presses play and hears to soft click of a phone hanging up. And then the second message starts. He hears her inhale. He hears the slight sound of her lips pressing together and opening again. And then he hears her voice. He can practically hear the liquor in her voice.

"Jess. I…I don't know what I'm doing. Why I'm calling you. Why I miss you so much todaytonight. But, I was in a bookstore today and for some reason I started to imagine that I would see you when I turned the corner, just sitting there. You, of all people, I was fantasizing about running into you at a bookstore. I mean, what sort of fantasy is that? What sort of person fantasizes about running into old flames in the philosophy section? Why couldn't it have been a more romantic section? Like, poetry. It could've been the poetry section. Or…even just the literature section. Maybe, I could've been passing over the H's and I could've seen Hemingway and then thought of you. But, not even. And I just got so disoriented. I stole three books, Jess. You are a bad influence on me.

"Another thing. It's been two years. Do you know this? Two years? It's been two years since you came to me. God. I must have ripped your heart out. I... I broke you. Don't ever forgive me for that. Look. The point is…after two years, I am imagining you in bookstores. This means something, right? Right. It means I'm drunk and lonely. But, I have Logan. And we're good. Right? We're good me and Logan? It's been almost a year with him. He's wonderful. And he buys me things. Something you never did. But, then, I never really had anything for you to buy me then. You could've paid for some of the movie rentals. Or, maybe the pizza. Wait, you did pay for the pizza. Sometimes. Anyway. Two years. And all I can think about right now is your face when I said no. It didn't change at all. What does that even mean, that it didn't change? You were always so...so stoic.

"Which of course brings me to another point. I wanted to be as strong as you. All those times when you would let me down, I wanted to not feel the effect. I wanted to be numb to it. I didn't want to be weak. Or dependent. No. And... Wait. Your machine should've cut me off by now. But it hasn't. Maybe you picked up the phone. Are you listening to me right now without saying anything? Jess? Are you there? Do you still love me at all? Is there anything left?"

He listens as she waits for a few seconds, breathing in and out. He faintly hears the pouring of more whiskey. She swallows and he thinks he hears her crying. And then he hears the soft click of the phone hanging up.


	2. II Jess

**A/N: This was originally supposed to just be a oneshot thing. But. The positive reviews and my own desire have willed me to write another chapter. And, so, here it is. Jess' response. **

He picks up the phone, dialing a number he hopes is still the same. He is not drunk. He promised himself he would do this completely sober. But, his hands are shaking and his breathing is heavy. He sits as he listens to the phone ring. Once, twice. Three times and he hears the click of her machine picking up. He considers hanging up, pretending it never happened. He could act like he never got her message. He never heard her voice laced with alcohol, telling him she was lonely. He almost convinces himself of this until he realizes that the recording has already started.

"Rory. It's me. I got your message. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to respond to it. Two years is a long time, Rory. And, you know what? I'm over it. This whole thing. Us. Whatever." He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the couch before closing his eyes.

In the brief seconds his eyes are closed, he can see her. And it is that night all over again. She looked almost afraid of him. But, he had wanted her. He wanted nothing more than for her to be with him, away from all the people who thought he would do nothing but rip her apart. Funny how he was the one who left broken in the end.

He picks up the phone again, dialing the same number once more. She picks up this time. "Hello?"

"Rory?"

"Jess." His name is full of regrets as it comes from her lips.

"I thought I would get your machine again…"

"I just got in. Did you call before?"

She hasn't heard the message. "Uh, yeah. Actually just a minute ago. I left a message but you can just delete it since I caught you this time."

"Oh…Okay."

"How are you?"

"Good, I'm good. Let's not talk about the message I left on your machine. Logan and I had just been in a huge fight and I was drunk. It was nothing."

His grip on the phone tightens. "Oh, sure. I understand."

He can hear a voice in the background and he knows that it's him. He can see him coming up behind her, putting his arms around her waist as she moves the phone to her other ear so he can nibble on her earlobe. "Okay. Well, I got to get going now." She is giggling as she hangs up the phone.

Two days later he calls again. Drunk, this time. It's better this way. He's not afraid this way. He won't hold back. Not this time. He dials and crosses his fingers she won't pick up this time. When she doesn't, he speaks.

"Rory. Here's what I meant to say last time we spoke. I hate you. I hate you for what you did to me. I hate you for not coming with me to California. I hate you for breaking me. Hell, you said I should never forgive you for that, right? Well, I won't. Everybody called me the fuck up. Everybody doubted me. Everybody was so sure I would screw everything up. Except for you. But, it was me against them, Rory. Me against that whole fucking town. Me against your mother. Me against your grandparents. Me against Dean. No one was on my side besides you. And you didn't have the strength to fight that battle, did you? You just didn't want to do that. It was too much time and energy for you. It was easier to just let me go, right? That night. I was right about knowing what you want. You wanted to go with me. Tell me you didn't love me. You did. You loved me more than you ever loved Dean. I don't think you even really loved him. You just felt sorry for him. You just didn't think you could do better. And then I came along. Tell me I didn't make you realize what you wanted.

"Christ, Rory. I hate you for putting me in this position. For calling me, for saying those things. Pour salt right in that fucking wound, why don't you? And then…oh God. When I called you back. Hearing you with him, after all that you said, it was too much. You've changed."

He feels it in his chest. That this is overwhelming him. And he hangs up the phone, barely breathing.


	3. III Rory and Jess

**A/N: To everyone who has reviewed thus far, thank you so much. Another chapter will probably be done soon. Spring break has gotten me on a writing spree of sorts. Also to angeleyez: If you are reading this, I want to say that you are my role model in this whole Rory/Jess fiction thing. I've been reading your stuff a lot lately and it is amazing. And now, onto the story. **

This is the seventh time she has listened to the message. Nothing changes. She silently hopes each time she presses play that it will be different. But, it isn't. She cringes at his words. She cringes at the way his breaths become short and strained. She cringes at his mention of Dean. She cringes at all of it sounding so much like the truth.

She picks up the phone, slowly bringing it to her ear. She listens to the dial tone for a few seconds before she hangs up again. She presses play on the answering machine and whispers, "Number eight." as she refills her wine glass.

There is desperation in his voice. He is almost pleading for her to tell him all of this is true. He needs to believe that he is right. That these are the only reasons she hasn't been with him. That the only thing keeping them apart is their fear.

For a moment she doesn't listen to the words, only to his voice. He has started smoking again, she can hear it in the way his voice is breaking. She is taken back to the times when they were together. All the whispers against her ears. How safe his voice could make her feel even though he was what she was most afraid of. She is smiling despite everything.

And then something snaps inside of her. She suddenly remembers all the times he left. All the times he never said goodbye. All the times he tried to guilt her back into a relationship. All the times he let her down. He doesn't deserve to be mad. He doesn't deserve to hate her. The phone is in her hands again. She leaves a simple message this time. One that doesn't need any alcohol, the anger boiling in her veins is enough.

"Fuck you."

The darkness that has been following him for the past week envelops him entirely when he hears her recorded voice that night. Because he was wrong. Because she was the one broken. Because she didn't understand that it was all for her. All the leaving, it was for her. If he had known that staying wouldn't hurt her, he would have.

With gritted teeth, he speaks into the phone, his lips crushing against the plastic. "I did it for you." And then he takes a breath, runs a hand through his hair, gathers all of his pieces, puts himself together. "We can't keep doing this. This phone tag thing. I need to talk to you. Rory, there are so many things you don't know. Please, let me see you."

Only when the phone is out of arm's reach does he let all of those gathered pieces scatter from his hands.


	4. IV Face to Face

**A/N: A few things. First off, this isn't how I originally planned to have this end. However, it was getting late and I was running out of ideas and I wanted to post something. This is what I did instead of my English assignment. Also. There's this Jeff Buckley song called Everybody Here Wants You and part of this one verse always makes me think of Rory and Jess: "Such a thing of wonder in this crowd/ I'm a stranger in this town/ You're free with me/ And our eyes locked in outcast love.." And..yes.Just thoughts. Anyway. On with the show. **

This is where he told her to meet him. A café situated on a less frequented street corner. He isn't there. She immediately thinks that he had gotten there much earlier and decided to leave while he still had the chance. He is always running. She sits down at a table near the door. This way it will be easier to get up and go should the situation arise. She is always running. They are both always running and she knows this time will be no different.

But, he is walking towards her, down the street, he sees her before he even gets to the café. He doesn't smile. His face doesn't change. Stoic, like always. He comes in and sits down across from her. She looks at him for a few seconds, looking for changes. Looking for signs that he has gotten older, matured, changed for the better. There is nothing. He has remained the same. His hair is the same, though maybe a bit longer. He is clean shaven. One thing is different, his leather jacket has been replaced by a denim jacket. It makes him seem happier, somehow. He doesn't look happier.

He is doing the same to her, examining her facial features. Her hair is curled and shorter. And bits of it are falling down into her eyes. She seems older. She holds her head higher. She sits straighter. She crosses her legs beneath the table. But, her face retains its innocence from years before when she was untouched by the world. There is still a slight flush in her cheeks when his eyes meet hers. Speaking of which, if it is possible, they are even bluer than he remembered.

They are silent for a good five minutes before he speaks. "Coffee?" And then when she gives him a pointed look, "Right. Of course." He gets up and orders, bringing the cups back to their table. She takes a large gulp. "You're going to get a stomach ulcer from drinking that stuff black."

Her voice cold. "I've been drinking it this way for years and so far, my stomach is fine."

"That's because you have a stomach of steel," he says with a slight smile. His first genuine smile in ages.

She doesn't smile. She sits with her eyes fixated on her coffee. "So. What was it you had to say to me? Why did you so desperately need to see me?"

"Okay. No pleasantries are to be exchanged. Got it." She glares at him. "First let me ask you, why have you been so angry with me these past years?"

She lets out a breath that she must have been holding for quite some time. She is so tired of answering the same questions. "It's simple. You ran away. You didn't say goodbye either of the two times you ran. I didn't even know where you were. You let me down. You come back and try to tell me that you love me, that you've changed, that you want me to come with you."

He is nodding. These are all things he already knows. He somehow doubts that these are all of the reasons she is upset. "I know all of those things are pretty much unforgivable. It's just…You don't understand the reasons for why I left."

"And what might these elusive reasons be?"

And he speaks softer this time, doubt and insecurity suddenly taking him over. "I left for you." He can tell that she isn't buying it and he begins to speak louder. "Because I knew the things I was doing were hurting you. Because the things I was going to do would hurt you. Because I wasn't going to graduate from high school and you were going off to an ivy league school. Because I had done nothing but screw up your entire life. Because I alienated you from your own mother. Because I could never be accepted by your world."

She says nothing, just looks at him. She is trying to determine whether or not to take these reasons at face value, whether or not he is being true, whether or not she should accept these. She is deciding whether or not he deserves to be forgiven, even the slightest bit. She whispers, "You still could've said goodbye. You could've told me these things."

"No, I couldn't have. You would've talked me out of it. You would've convinced me that we could make it work. I would have stayed."

"You could've stayed."

"No."

She leans back in her seat and for the first time since he came in, she looks him in the eyes. "I don't know."

"You don't know what?"

"What this means. I don't know if what you told me makes any difference. It doesn't change the fact that you ran away. It doesn't change the fact that you came back said that you loved me and then ran away again-"

He cuts her off, putting a hand up. "Can we stop saying that I 'ran away'? That's not what I did at all. There was no secretive plan. I didn't tie my things up in a handkerchief and put it on a stick. I didn't just run off without a plan."

"But, you were running."

He feels defeated, resting his head in his hands. "Yes, I was." He looks up at her and she is staring at him intently. "You're not ever going to forgive me for that are you?"

She considers the idea for a moment, turning it over in her mind. She shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

And he nods, a feeling of contentment coming to him, crashing over him like a wave. "Fine."


End file.
